The Phoenix Resistence
by x-rayLady
Summary: The fighters of the light are defeated yet again in a second wizarding war. The sole survivor returns to his first year in Hogwarts to fix things before they started going wrong. Time travel story with an unexpected main character. One-shot.


**The last stand of the Phoenix Resistance**

_**Summary: **_

_**The fighters of the light are defeated yet again in a second wizarding war. The sole survivor returns to his first year in Hogwarts to fix things before they started going wrong. Time travel story with an unexpected main character. Long-shot.**_

**A/N: Hey peeps, since I was fed up with my own apparent incapability to finish a fic without huge hiatus, I decided to write a long-shot for a change. I love HP time travels lately, so I came up with one of my own featuring an expected hero. I wrote this travelling in the train from and to work and it took me a surprising amount of time to type it out. Let's hope this story will be the first of many to get finished. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own all books in the series in two versions, my mother tongue and the UK edition. So, nope, the characters aren't mine, only the plot.**

The eerie and unnatural silence of the cave was broken by the tell-tale crack of an apparition. The blond male in his forties stumbled forward after landing. His clothing was in rags and full of blood stains. The figure had clearly once been handsome, but now he was limping and his once elegant featured were marred with battle scars. One particularly nasty healed wound divided his face diagonally in two and ended only millimeters from his right eye. His left arm was dripping blood and his right arm was shaking so badly that it was a miracle he didn't drop his wand. He dragged himself forward and noticed the two pale and unmoving figures on the floor. The blond male, who looked so much alike the limping man that he could only be his son, held his arm protectively around a beautiful red-head who showed the first signs of being pregnant.

"No!" the anguished cries of the man echoed through the cave. He sunk to his feet and sobbed over the young man's chest.

"Scorpius! Rose! It isn't fair!"

He realized that he had to send a patronus to inform his fellow members of the Phoenix Resistance that this cave had also been breached and was lost. But faced with the dead bodies of his only child, daughter-in-law and his unborn grandchild, he didn't have it in him to think the happy thoughts needed to summon his familiar wolf. When he had wept over the corpses long enough for his breathing to become laboured, he suddenly felt a warmth building up inside him. He looked up to see a proud silver stag.

"Harry," he whispered just as the hoarse voice of Harry Potter came out of his patronus.

"Cave Moony has fallen, we are all lost, go to cave Pron…"

He didn't need to hear the words that had died on Harry's lips to know which cave he had meant. It was the cave named after James Potter's Marauder nick name and the one he was currently standing in. The fact that he heard the name, however, had been a surprise. That he hadn't heard cave Padfoot, came as no shock, as it was the one he had barely escaped with his life, leaving only dead bodies and enemies behind. But the people from cave Moony were supposed to evacuate to cave Phoenix first, meaning that Hermione had either send her patronus just as he had done earlier or escaped to Harry's cave and had now died with him. Ron had died early in the guerilla war against the neo-death eaters that had taken over the wizarding world and reigned with terror. As a true Gryffindor, he had given his life so that his wife and children could escape.

Although bearing a sad message announcing the death of the leader of their resistance, Harry's stag had given him the reprieve needed to summon his own patronus. But just as he started the spell, a small pop disturbed his concentration. An envelope labelled "To the survivor" and a vial of potion appeared in front of him. Recognizing Hermione's neat hand-writing, he curiously tore the envelope open en started to read.

_Dear Survivor,_

_If you read this, you are the last member of the Phoenix Resistance. I can only hope this means all the others have died of old age after my own untimely demise, but it stands to reason that this means all is lost. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so with this note you have received a vial of time travel potion. If you should wish to save our world, take one drop of potion for each year you want to travel back in time._

_Good luck!_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Hermione Granger-Weasley_

"Hermione, you truly are brilliant," he muttered.

He realised he should give the proposal more than a bit of thought, but his mind was already set as soon as he finished the letter. He took a few minutes to deliberate what year to turn back too, but quickly decided upon his first year at Hogwarts. With a bit of luck and a lot of cunning, he hoped he could prevent the raising of the Dark Lord and the neo Death Eaters. Either way, if he could reduce the casualties of the first war, he would increase the odds of surviving the second.

He swiftly counted the necessary drops and with one last glance at his dead son, he swallowed the bitter liquid in one gulp.

As soon as the liquid cursed through his body, he felt the nauseating tug reminiscent of a port key. He felt himself floating into nothingness until a brusque pull sucked him in. When he opened his eyes, he found himself entangled in smooth blankets and staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom at Malfoy Manor. Before he could pull himself together, he heard his mother's voice calling him.

"Draco! Get up and eat your breakfast, we are leaving in an hour to buy your school supplies."

Draco took a deep breath to recollect himself before slowly and carefully getting up. He stretched his limbs and concluded he could move his teenage body with the same ease as his adult one. He made his way to his personal bathroom in the manor and started his morning routine. After splashing water in his face and brushing his teeth, he searched around for his shaving tools, confused as to why they weren't where he expected them to be. After shaving daily for the better part of his life, it took him a while to realize his 11-year old body had no need for it yet.

Thirty minutes after his mother's first call, Draco wandered into the kitchen and was momentarily confused to see a house elf at the stove, until he remembered that at this point in time Dobby was still alive and serving the Malfoy's.

"Morning, Dobby, what's for breakfast?"

The elf visibly startled at these kind words, but recovered quickly.

"Good morning, young master, we is having pancakes."

"Fantastic, thank you!"

Dobby quickly served a portion and eyed Draco warily throughout his meal, as though expecting the usual nasty comments to come any minute. Unfazed, Draco continued his amiably polite attitude toward the elf.

"Delicious as usual, Dobby, you've done a good job."

"Thank you, young master, …"

Draco sensed a teary-eyed grateful episode and made a bee-line for the door before it could happen. Knowing how much his parents loved decorum, he tidied himself up in front of the hallway mirror, before entering the salon where his mother was waiting in her armchair, impeccably dressed to the nines, like he remembered.

"Morning, Mother."

"Good, you're ready, I'll fetch your father and we can leave."

The prospect of facing his father had him in a momentarily bout of panic. He had no idea how to act around the man who practically raised him to be a perfect little Death Eater now that he was determined to become anything but that.

By the time his parents entered the room, he had regained his posture. Having technically already lived longer than his parents had put things in perspective and made him realize that he had bigger goals to chase than pleasing his father.

"Good morning, Father."

His father nodded dismissively and crudely gestured to the pot of floo powder. If he had really been eleven, this treatment would have made him sad and he would interpret it as his father not caring about him finally going to Hogwarts. This time around he couldn't care less about it and just wanted the ordeal over with so that he could return to his room for some serious plotting. So he wasted no time grabbing a fistful of the green powder and shouting "Diagon Alley" in the fireplace. The last couple of years in his original time line, Diagon Alley had been in rubbles, so he was in awe over seeing it again in all its glory. That was a good thing too, otherwise his mother would surmise from the lack of enthusiasm that something was amiss and he could really do without her being suspicious.

It wasn't until he noticed Hagrid's silhouette through the windows of Madam Malkin's that he really that he would be able to make a different first impression on Harry Potter. So by the time the 11-year old version of his old ally was on the stool next to him, he hadn't come up with a plan yet and he just had to play it ear-by-ear.

"Hello there, are you starting Hogwarts too in September?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Cool, I am Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you."

"Harry Potter."

Draco nodded in acknowledgement.

"Is this your first time in Diagon Alley?"

Harry nodded again.

"How are you liking it so far?"

"It's wicked!"

"It is, isn't it? I've been here before, but there is always something interesting to do."

"You're all set, Mister Malfoy," Madam Malkins interrupted their small talk.

"Thanks, Madam. See you at platform 9 ¾, Harry!"

Just when he was exiting the shop, Draco could hear Harry's question.

"Excuse me, did he say platform 9 ¾?"

He didn't stick around to hear the reply, trusting the shop keeper to explain the specifics of boarding the Hogwarts' express properly. When walking the Alley to meet up with his parents, Draco thought that the first meeting had gone well. He knew that Harry hated his fame and didn't like arrogant people. He hadn't pointed out that he recognized the name and living through two wars had long since lost him his arrogance, so he was confident that he hadn't made an enemy out of Harry yet. That might change when he was sorted in Slytherin and Ron would undoubtedly complain about the Malfoy family, but he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

Draco spent most of the remaining summer holed up in his room plotting various ways to turn the Slytherin house to the light. He also spent a significant amount of time chatting up to Dobby. When the house-elf was finally used to the better behaviour, Draco took a chance late one evening to entrust him with an important mission.

"Dobby, what do you know about time travel?"

"It be ancient magic, master Draco, it be long lost."

"What if I told you that a brilliant witch rediscovered it and sent me back in time?"

"Then the future where master come be a very bad place?"

"You have no idea."

Draco spent some minutes in silence contemplating the horrors that he hoped to undo. He was shaken from his musings by Dobby.

"Master?"

"I am sorry, Dobby, I was remembering. So do you believe me?"

"Certainly, master."

"Good, because I want you to do something for me. At the end of the summer before my second year, my father dropped the Dark Lord's diary in Ginny Weasley's cauldron. She started writing in it and became possessed. She opened the chamber of secrets and unleashed the basilisk. She very nearly died until Harry Potter rescued her. The diary turned out to be a Horcrux…"

He was interrupted by a terrified squeal of Dobby.

"Master speaks of very dark magic!"

"I know, Dobby, that's why I want it destroyed. The trouble is that they are very difficult to destroy."

"They?"

"Yes, unfortunately, he made more than one…"

Dobby nearly fainted at that.

"So what master is wanting to do about them?"

"I want you to find the dairy and destroy it if you can."

"Fiendfyre kills it, but I don't suppose you can control that?"

Dobby sadly hung his ears at that question.

"Dobby is sorry, master."

"Oh, well, not to worry, basilisk venom does the trick too. And Harry used the sword of Gryffindor. We don't have any Goblin made weapons, do we?"

Dobby shook his head.

"Hm, thought so already, I wasn't sure it would work anyway… Ah, well, I'll be home for Christmas, so we can work something out then if you couldn't destroy it."

The peace offering to Dobby wasn't the only unusual alliance that he made. After seeing Hagrid in Diagon Alley, he remembered the theft of the philosopher's stone and decided to forewarn the goblins of the impending break-in. He sent a letter first thing upon returning home, figuring it couldn't hurt to get at the goblins good side.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I have it on good authority that in the near future someone will attempt to break into the high security vault that's recently been emptied by Hagrid. Although I am confident Gringotts will be able to fight the intruder off, I thought you'd like the chance to prepare a trap to capture the despicable creature that thinks he can get away with this insult to the Goblin Race._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_PS I trust this can be kept confidential in the interest of my personal safety. _

When September the first rolled around, Draco was appropriately nervous. He realised the importance of the job he set for himself and knew that the faith of the magical world rested on his shoulders. After successfully avoiding his parents and his peers for most of the summer, there would be no escaping them at school. He would need all his Slytherin cunning to act like the 11-year old he was supposed to be. Crabbe and Goyle might not be the brightest lumos on a wand, but even they were bound to notice his personality shift sooner or later. Antagonising Weasley, Potter and all the muggleborns had been second nature and any of his childhood playmates were going to expect a similar jig. However, for the sake of future allies in both wizarding wars, it was of the utmost importance that he refrained from this childish attitude. Stopping the actions wasn't going to be the difficult part, but doing so in a non-suspicious fashion was the tricky thing. All his plotting notwithstanding, there were too many factors, too many things that could go wrong that it had him nervous to the point of vomiting.

"Don't worry, Son, you're going to make a very fine Slytherin," his father offered in a rare case of parental support.

"I know, Father."

Once on the train, it had been surprisingly easy not to stalk through the corridors like he owned the place in search for Harry Potter. He spent his time playing exploding snap with Crabbe and ;Goyle and sharing the treats he bought on the train. They didn't seem surprised by the gesture, but then again, they never asked questions when food was involved. When he got bored of the unintellectual company, he went in search for Blaise Zabini hoping for a decent game of wizarding chess. He came across Neville's toad Trevor on his way and stunned the beast before pocketing it. He'd hand it to either Hermione or Neville himself if they came looking for it. Neither of them appeared in their compartment, so he gave it to the prefect that passed while on patrol. Once he got of the train, he startled upon seeing the Thestrals waiting to pull the carriages with the upper years. Back in his own time, he had been able to see them before he even left Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected it to have carried on to his 11-year old self. Still a bit shaken, he embarked the boats after giving Harry a quick wave. Ron Weasley, who had befriended Harry on the train like expected, scowled at him. Draco knew it was inevitable to get on the wrong side of Ron's prejudice, but he was none the less pleasantly surprised to see Harry shrug in response. Gazing up to Hogwarts castle from the lake, he was happy to see it in its full glory again, unaffected by wars. It had taken ages to rebuild Hogwarts properly after the first "Battle of Hogwarts". And unfortunately it hadn't ended there. Last time he saw it, the walls were crumbling due to the shear force of the attacks from the outside and they had to abandon it after a long siege that had become known as the "Second Battle of Hogwarts." Once in the entrance hall, he patiently waited for McGonagal's speech to be over. He paid no mind to Ron's fearful story about wrestling a troll or to Hermione's anxious recital of the spells she read about. He glanced up at the ghosts when they made their show of "accidentally" stumbling upon the firsties, but mostly fixated on the magnificent door of the Great Hall, remembering how it had been blasted into pieces right before they evacuated the castle, bringing the offspring of many of the students that were currently behind that same door to safety.

Finally the doors went open and "Abbott, Hanah" had been called to sit on the stool. Predictably, she was sorted into Hufflepuff and McGonagal called the next student. One by one, all student were sorted in the houses he remembered them to belong to. And finally, his name was called.

"Malfoy, Draco."

_Oh, my, what do we have here? This is surely something else. That's quite a daring and ambitious plan you have there, isn't it? Hmmm, better be…_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Oh, crap!


End file.
